Another Chance
by dreamfandomist
Summary: Mr Barrow confides in Mrs Carson the reason behind his new found happiness and she attempts to make Mr Carson accept it and understand that everyone deserves to be loved.


**Disclaimer: Neither do these characters belong to me and nor do I make any economic benefit out of them. **

* * *

Every one of the staff sat down for luncheon following the Butler, Thomas Barrow, with Mrs Hughes on his right. Everyone was oblivious to the cheerfulness of the Butler, all except Mrs Hughes, who was the first and only one to see many a small change. She noted how it was not the younger man's usual measured smile, the one he had crafted for years. But a smile that was very genuine. She watched him dish out the stew in a much relaxed demeanour and when he handed her plate, she noticed how sparks were dancing in the depths of his deep brown eyes. A true smile. Once the plates were handed over and the announcements made all staff members got immersed in their own conversations. Anna and Mr Bates were smiling in the far corner with each other. Miss Baxter was talking to Andy from across the table. And the housemaids and the hall boys were laughing quietly over something.

Mrs Hughes eyed the Mr Barrow. Yes, something was definitely different in the young man, she noticed.

"You are in a good mood today Mr Barrow," she said raising her eyes from the stew to Thomas.

"Indeed I am Mrs Hughes. Though I am indeed surprised that you noticed," he replied eyeing the Housekeeper who was ever alert. He knew perfectly well though how good he was at fooling others, Mrs Hughes was the one person he could not.

"You know me Mr Barrow. You could say it's a Housekeeper's intuition. Others wouldn't have," she said as she smiled a knowing smile. While such minute changes may escape notice in the eyes of others, her ability of identifying and observing them was one of the key reasons that made Mrs Hughes extremely good at her job and promoted to Housekeeper at the age of thirty years, much younger to be the Housekeeper of any house, let alone a house as grand as Downton Abbey.

"You might not approve…"

"I would like to decide that for myself Mr Barrow, thank you very much. That is if you allow me a chance to build an opinion on it. But only if you are willing to confide in me the source of your happiness," Mrs Hughes cut him short, perfectly getting the upper hand of the conversation, while hiding her smile by looking intently at her stew. A skill acquired with years of practise as Housekeeper at one the greatest estates of Yorkshire, which at one time boasted of a staff almost like a small army.

"I would very much like to Mrs Hughes. But this is not the moment. Would you find yourself unoccupied after the upstairs tea?" Mr Barrow asked the Housekeeper, managing to maintain the perfect exterior demeanour.

"Certainly," Mrs Hughes replied instantly but in a fraction of a second she wondered if she was intruding knowing well that the Butler was an extremely private person, "but Mr Barrow are you sure I am not intruding your privacy? I would hate to think that I am doing so," she finished now looking the younger man in the eye.

"Not at all Mrs Hughes," he smiled back and concentrated on his meal. Elsie looked at the man who was a locked secret chest in a fancy drawing room. Perfect on the outside, but no one knowing what lay on the inside. One couldn't blame him. If only this world was a much fairer one, she concluded.

* * *

Mrs Hughes was in her sitting room trying hard to write a reference letter for a young housemaid who was leaving, hoping to find work in Manchester. But there was absolutely nothing positive that Mrs Hughes could say about the girl nor did she wish to turn out the girl without some sort of a reference for she wasn't sacked but had given notice several weeks ahead, having planned her new life. Maybe she was growing soft in her old age, the Housekeeper thought smiling to herself. Back in the days when Mrs Patmore called her Mary Queen of Scots, her approach to this matter would have been quite different.

The girl wasn't punctual. Daisy could never get the girl to wake up with one knock or a second, always feigning something or the other, long till the Housekeeper arrived at the Abbey. The assistant Cook left it to Mrs Hughes to wake the girl up with a good taste of her famous Scottish temper in the fieriest of its flavours, aimed at the girl still in bed with a complete mess of hair. Her fiery red strands forming one big tangle at the back of her head. So that was "taking good care of her person" gone down the drain too. Her uniform was never pressed properly and several times the Housekeeper had threatened the girl that she would get Anna to cut her hair as short as possible if it was not properly combed. Nor did she heed orders properly. Impertinence was high on her list of faults. And Mrs Hughes over hearing a conversation of her promising a hall boy for a romantic tryst in one of the storerooms in the attics gave her no credit as well.

Absentmindedly she took the tea cup by her side to her lips only for dusty tea leaves left at the bottom of the almost empty tea cup to come pouring into her mouth in one quick flow along the a little very cold tea, making her screw up her face in disgust and ended up coughing. It was at this precise moment when three knocks with perfect time intervals sounded on her door.

"Come in," she said trying to soften her cough and the Butler entered. Of course she knew the sound of his knocks. The perfect time intervals. But unlike Mr Carson he never entered her sitting room without her permission to do so. She valued his respect towards her, which she presumed was the seniority of her age and the years she has served at Downton. But to Mr Barrow it was beyond those reasons. He always respected Mrs Hughes more than Mr Carson. At first maybe he feared her more, the amiable Scotswoman certainly could be a tyrant when she wanted to. But with time he grew to respect her for who she was. For standing up for him when the whole world saw him a twisted man who deserved to be shunned. For treating him with kindness when he knew he did not deserve any. But more importantly for treating him like a human being with feelings. That was why he felt quite comfortable about the prospect of revealing what he was about to tell to the Housekeeper.

At her invitation he entered bearing a tea tray with two cups and a pot. There were only a couple of more hours left for the downstairs tea. But he felt a bit of fortification would be nice to keep the awkwardness at bay.

"Ah Mr Barrow," Mrs Hughes acknowledged as she turned in her chair to face the Butler.

"I brought us some tea. It might be a bit too early but a cup wouldn't hurt, would it Mrs Hughes?" he smiled as he poured her a cup and handed it to her.

"Actually I'm so grateful for this. The task I'm handling right now needs this, or I would have gone in search of something stronger if I'd have been left to it for too long. Perhaps a go at Mrs Patmore's secret bottle of brandy which she doesn't know that I know about" she replied with a rather mischievous looking smile as she indicated the paper, the open ink well and pen with a nod of her head.

"Might I ask what it is?" Mr Barrow asked trying his best to sound polite.

"I'm writing a reference for Margaret. And after a good few decades of writing references, I'm left with nothing to write here," she replied stopping the sigh she was about to heave in good time. With Mr Carson she would huff and puff all she liked but with Mr Barrow it was quite different. Though they got on well together in managing the Household there are some things that never change. They did not share the familiarity she had with the former Butler, now her husband.

"That is a task I would not envy you for," Mr Barrow replied taking a sip from his cup. His lips forming the malicious trademark smile of Thomas Barrow making Mrs Hughes let out a soft and unnoticeable laugh. Back in the days that smile of the younger man was a forewarning of some sort of drama to come. But how things have changed!

"About what I wanted to tell you Mrs Hughes…" he began but Mrs Hughes cut him short.

"Mr Barrow, you needn't tell me if you are uncomfortable about the prospect. Anyway I suppose it was quite blunt of me to compel you to tell it to me…"

"Mrs Hughes. I would very much like you to know. Anyway even if hadn't asked, sooner or later I would have told this to you. You deserve to know about it."

"You've got me a wee bit worried now," Mrs Hughes looked at the Butler with a serious expression.

"Well, it does have a worrying aspect to it. But a greater good when the complete picture is concerned, at least in my opinion," he replied with a less serious expression. Mrs Hughes looked on at the Butler, quite confused. The younger man was looking intently at his tea cup, entirely avoiding her gaze and the Housekeeper's curiosity was growing by the minute.

"Right before I left Downton for Etleworth Manor, you might remember that you told me that I would one day find the right person for me. Well… you see… I've found that person," he stated, still looking at the tea cup, "you might of course be mortified about the idea. But I remember how you've been kind to me with the whole Jimmy situation so I supposed…"

"I am very happy for you Mr Barrow. I truly am," Mrs Hughes replied softly with a wide smile on her face. Mr Barrow looked up at her in surprise. He expected Mrs Hughes would look kindly at his good fortune but he never expected her to be genuinely happy for him. Then again as she once told him she was a woman of mystery if ever there was one, he thought smiling to himself in his mind.

"Are you?" he asked, now in a worried tone. Was she really? He was quite surprised to hear her response. Mrs Hughes was of course known to be sarcastic, but he knew she would never associate her well-polished sarcasm on such a delicate matter. A matter that she knew was close to someone's heart and mattered a great deal of him. She was of course regarded by many of the younger staff members as a mother away from home, as had he, rather surprisingly, over the last few years.

"I am. As to the mortification, that would have been Mr Carson's reaction," she said chuckling, "but I am glad that you are finally happy. You'll need something considerably more to shock this old woman," she laughed. The worry and anxiety on Mr Barrow's face eased and he too joined in Mrs Hughes' gentle laughter.

"But why Mrs Hughes? When everyone else treated me… you know… like how they treated me after they knew my secret… didn't you treat me like that? Why did you save my job when they wanted me sacked, that time?" Thomas asked genuinely curious. Mrs Hughes let a few seconds pass by before she answered. Her eyes still fixed on the black eyes of the man, that everyone knew held deep secrets. He wasn't the only one. They all had secrets. Some sort of secret. For Mrs Hughes it was Becky. For Anna it was her rape. For Mr Bates the several "skills" he learned at prison. Lady Edith had Marigold. Miss Baxter had her past. Lady Mary had the death of a Turkish diplomat. Mr Branson had Edna's threat. Mr Carson had his time on stage. She could go on with the list forever, both upstairs and down. She was the keeper of secrets as well as the keeper of keys.

"Mr Barrow, as to defending your job, James might be your friend now, but he was a vain flirt. There's no denying that, and it was plain as day to me that he led you along. With fault on his part, I didn't think that you deserved to pay for it all," she paused and sighed, "and I believe that it's terribly unkind to… accuse… anyone for the way they were born… They can't change it. And it's not fair," she finished, her mind drifting to Becky and the many barbed comments that the two sisters had borne. Elsie had always been defensive about her little sister, even though the younger couldn't understand half the insults hurled at her. Becky was born that way and she couldn't help it. Nor could Thomas.

Mrs Hughes watched Mr Barrow's eyes fill with tears. She saw how he wanted to say something but struggled trying to find the words.

After a pause he said in a trembling voice, "Thank you Mrs Hughes. It means a lot to me. Not many people have been kind to me. And you are among the few." Mrs Hughes smiled. Back in the days she despised the scheming young boy. But with time he grew into a better man and she was proud of who he was now.

He spoke quickly, he was beginning to feel more awkward but for once he wanted to be completely honest to the kind woman in front of him. "It's not some torrid affair or a tryst of some sort… he loves me… I know it… and I… I love him too. And… I suppose we can be happy," he finished with a shy and awkward smile, relieved to find that in the passing minutes the Housekeeper's kind expression had not turned into one of horror, the typical expression one would expect for men of his kind. He remembered, a rather feverish haze blurring the memories, that same smile from when the Housekeeper had sat by his side making sure that he took his medicine after his failed attempt to end his own life.

"I am glad… but… be careful Thomas," Mrs Hughes smiled and the Butler shyly returned it. He was touched at her use of his first name. He understood that her dispense of formality was to convey her happiness and concern for him, his life, his freedom, that he had to risk for the sake of being loved. Taking his cup with him but leaving the tea pot on the table, he stood up. With a slight nod of his head towards the Housekeeper he walked towards the door and opened it, standing there for a fraction of a second he looked back at Mrs Hughes.

"Thank you… Mrs Carson... and I will," he added and walked out. His tone, the usual tone of the young Butler with a heavy touch of emotions that he couldn't and didn't want to bring out in words.

Mrs Hughes watched Mr Barrow close the door behind him and then turned towards her desk. Fate can give you nice things after making you walk to hell and back and love can indeed change people, she thought as she sighed and faced the almost impossible task of formulating the reference.

* * *

Mr Carson walked towards the Abbey to walk his wife back home. He had made quite a habit of it, walking the Housekeeper to and back from work and he quite enjoyed it. The first few times were rather nostalgic but with time he somewhat got over it, if not completely. They often chatted amiably, about things at the cottage on their way towards the Abbey and about the happenings at the big house on their way back. And of course sharing a sweet kiss or two when Mr Carson felt particularly daring and which often guaranteed him a more than pleasant end to the day.

Darkness was falling when he rounded the bend by the three tall trees in the path, where the road divided into two at a wide junction. One path leading to the estate cottages and the other a shortcut to the village. Mr Carson was humming a rather merry tune from his past quite softly when he spotted a familiar figure taking the shortcut to the village. The darkness silhouetted the image at the considerable distance and for a moment Mr Carson wondered who it was at this time of the hour, till he recognised the features of Thomas Barrow. He was felt rather curious about the presence of the younger man at that time of the hour. It must be his half day, Charles Carson thought at first. But why not take the main road to the village which was not as dark as the secluded path through the woods? Maybe he's in a hurry and perhaps Elsie would know what it was about, he concluded.

* * *

Charles had forgotten about the sighting of Thomas till they had gone upstairs to retire to bed. He was already seated in bed, leaning against the headboard with his book in his hand. It was Frankenstein. Certainly not to his taste but Elsie had persuaded him to read it. Unlike him she didn't have a particular taste in fiction. She would read any book of any genre and it would result in several books which he never thought he would ever have to read in his entire life being forced down his throat by his open minded wife. While he had resisted arguing that he hated to give into fantasy and horror in fiction, a ghastly combination of genres, his wife had countered that it would never hurt to try and let it go if he didn't like it.

Maybe it was the strangeness of the book that reminded him of the strange sight from earlier. He looked up from his book to watch Elsie give a few final brush strokes to her hair and begin to braid it. He wanted to ask her whether Mr Barrow had told anything to her about his walk but he was not sure whether he should for his wife would most definitely say it was none of their business. But to Charles it felt more important. Thomas Barrow no longer bore the post of a mere footman or the decorative one of the Under Butler, but the solemn and distinguished post of Butler of Downton Abbey, one of the finest houses in Yorkshire. And that meant his actions should portray the same solemnity and dignity and thereby requiring a great deal of consideration as to the execution of these action even though they may be mundane ones. And also considering the fact that his actions reflected much more on the House and the Family he served than any of his previous positions.

When Elsie had tied the braid with a ribbon she walked towards the bed and lifted the covers. She was getting in when he said, "I saw Mr Barrow today."

"Oh?" she asked quite confused by her husband's statement. She adjusted the covers while she waited for Charles to elaborate his point.

"I was coming to fetch you this evening when I saw him on the shortcut to the village," he said raising an eyebrow.

"The family was away to dine at the Dowager Lady Shakleton's so he thought that he might make a trip to the village," she replied with a smile.

"Only he was looking a bit odd. In a hurry, rather. And I don't know if I am mistaken with the darkness but he looked quite nervous," Charles replied furrowing his brow. Elsie bit her lip. Mr Barrow had told her quickly later that afternoon that he was intending to visit his "friend" but he didn't give her any details, only told her that Andy and Mrs Patmore could manage while he was away. She was of course surprised that he would even relay to her his intention and she didn't want to dig deeper into his private life, despite their brief conversation reaching an abrupt end with Andy reporting to the Butler that His Lordship wanted to speak to him. And Charles noticing Mr Barrow making his "visit" was the least she had expected.

"Do you know anything about it," he asked noticing his wife's bottom lip disappearing beneath her teeth. He knew it was a sign.

"Well… kind of," Elsie tried to stall her husband. It was awkward enough talking about it to Mr Barrow but relaying it to her husband was not something she had planned to do soon. Maybe not ever, considering his great despise of the subject.

"Mr Barrow was visiting a 'friend'," she replied involuntarily giving the word "friend" a rather different tone from the rest of her sentence.

"I don't like how you voiced 'friend'," he countered pronouncing the aforementioned word in faintly disgusted tone. He had a blurred idea as to where this was heading. Elsie looked at Charles and sighed.

"You see… he's was… alone… all these years of his life… So… let's say… he has found someone to… to share it with," she added softly. It was definitely going to be a blow for Charles and she would try her best to let it fall in degrees, trying to turn the colour of disgust he held for Thomas' emotional state into a colour of pity.

"You mean he's sneaked off to the village to… to…," the horrified former Butler thundered and he couldn't finish his sentence. The frown on his face becoming even more pronounced.

"Don't put it that way… he's found someone… to love. Maybe for the rest of his life… according what he told me," she looked at him trying to show him some reason.

"I can't believe a respected woman such as yourself was made to listen to those… those repulsive ideas!"

"Well I was glad he was honest with me. And as I've said before he's not the first man of that sort I've met and it takes quite a lot more than that to shock me!"

"But who does he think he is. Some invisible farmhand? He's the Butler of Downton Abbey, for heaven's sake! And his shameful, repulsive acts would reflect on the house if he is caught! What a headline it would make in the papers. I can't imagine the height of the scandal he would surround Downton in! I knew he was bound to bring shame on the Family!" he thundered with his fists clenched.

"Well as for scandal Lady Mary herself has made sure quite a few times that Downton Abbey doesn't leave the gossip circles of upper class society... not to mention the working classes," she countered in a raised voice with a bit of exaggeration, hoping a bit of a more-than-mild blow to the former Butler's favourite would make him see reason. And of course she couldn't deny that it didn't bring her a bit of a personal satisfaction.

"That would be nothing compared to this!"

"Thomas would be careful…"

"Well I suppose he was 'careful' with James! He barely escaped being arrested and then prison!"

"James led him on and you can't blame Thomas entirely for it."

"Well now you can blame him 'entirely' for it when he brings scandal upon Downton!"

Elsie sighed. She felt her effort of persuasion was a vain one. Charles would never see it in a more humane light, accepting any drifting away from the natural way of things, even after some consideration was definitely not her husband's forte.

"Charles you did love me long before you proposed to me, didn't you?" she asked softly. Her voice calm.

"Of course," he replied in a matter of fact voice, bewildered by her sudden change in the direction of the conversation.

"And when you married me, when you were able to love me freely, were you happy?"

"Happy, Elsie, is an understatement, you know that!"

"Well then… would you grudge the same happiness on Mr Barrow?" she asked with a hint of a pleading note in her voice, pleading him to understand. Perhaps it was not simply because of his intense liking to have everything in their natural order of things but may be it was also because he had no triggering reason to look beyond the ordinary, unlike Elsie.

"That's different," he replied stubbornly with a huff.

"How is it? Only because the person Thomas can love is different from who a man would usually want to. You make me beyond happy Charles… and with you… I… I feel my whole life is complete. As if I can be happy… truly happy after all these years. Being loved does that to a person. So how different is he from the rest of us? He wants to be loved, just like anyone else," she argued, trying to reason. The room fell quiet except for the soft ticking of the clock that Elsie had placed on the mantelpiece, the soft sounds of their breathing and the rather loud sound of the wind among the branches of the trees outside. Elsie looked at Charles and Charles looked ahead. A few minutes passed before he finally broke the silence.

"Elsie," he began in a calm voice, "I can never approve of his actions completely. I just can't get myself to do it, I'm sorry to disappoint you. But…" he paused and took in a deep breath, "I will agree with you on the overall image of the matter. About Thomas deserving to be loved too, now that you've managed to show a quite different light upon things. Thirty years ago I wouldn't have understood. But now… now I have you in my life… so I understand… to love you and to be loved by you has made me happier than words can ever convey," he finished, turning his head to face her. The frown gone and the gentle smile on his lips. Elsie returned a wide smile.

Elsie reached her hand up to his face and rested it upon his cheek, her thumb gently stroking his cheek as she got lost in the depths of his deep brown eyes darkened by the dim, yellow that surrounded them. She placed the other upon the sheets where his thigh was and reached up to kiss him, lingering much longer than she usually did, her tongue gently tracing his bottom lip. In response to which he eagerly parted his lips and reached his hand around her shoulders to lay it at the back of her head, steadying it and letting his fingers glide through her soft hair while deepening the kiss. Her hand on his cheek moving to the nape of his neck to run her fingers through the hair there making sure to softly tickle him there, knowing how much he loved it when she did that, making him smile against her lips and his other hand laying softly moving up and down her side daring to move lower at each stroke.

The need for air became too high and he pulled away from the kiss, to see a breathless and blushed Elsie with a wide smile on her lips and darkened eyes glistening in the light, his eyes eventually went south of her face but his hands never left her, only to be more daring in their exploration, while she managed to undo the first few buttons of his pyjama top with one hand and letting her hand rest on the softening hair on his chest, her fingers gently moving against them. Her efforts had their desired effect for he leaned down and proceeded to place several kisses to her shoulders.

Hers was a well-deserved happy life, one she was happy that Thomas could look forward to after all he's been through. This being her last thought before she dived head on into the love, passion and affection she shared with her beloved husband.

* * *

**THE END.**

* * *

**Note: As far as I can remember, there was no exact name given for the house that Thomas left to work at once he left Downton, therefore I took the liberty of referring to as Etleworth Manor. Thank you so much for taking time to read this story and reviews are very much appreciated. **


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